


Tall. dark and handsome stranger

by winterstorrm



Series: Old KMM fills [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/pseuds/winterstorrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a psychic. Arthur wants his fortune told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kinkme repost. Not beta read.

Arthur knows it’s tacky but fuck it, it’s  _his_  stag weekend, and if he wants his fortune told by ‘Mystic Merlin’ on Blackpool Pier then that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Lance and Leon, after taking the piss out of Arthur for even suggesting it, imbibe one beer too many and find themselves agreeing to come along and have theirs read the following morning.  Arthur, of course, makes them go first.

Lance stumbles out of the booth, wide eyed and grinning.  “He’s really bloody good Arthur,” he enthuses as Leon disappears behind the navy and gold velvet curtain for his turn.  “He knew all about Gwen, said I should stop procrastinating and make an honest woman of her.  Do you think I should marry her?  I mean, I love her and all but we’ve only been together a couple of months and -”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “You’re so right for each other it’s nauseating.”  He wished  _he_  could be so sure about Vivien.  “What else did he say?”

“I’m in the wrong job.”

“That’s true,” Arthur agreed.  “No one as noble as you should be in  _sales_  for fuck’s sake.  You’re too honest!” 

“He said I should follow my dream,” sighed Lance.  His dream was to open his own restaurant.  “I could name the place ‘Merlin’s’.”

“You  _could_ , if you want it to sound like a cheap amusement arcade,” laughed Arthur.  “So come on, did he tell you anything else?”

Lance reeled off a load of, in Arthur’s exalted opinion, hackneyed old clichés.  Untold riches, happy ever after, asking a man with the initial U to back your business... 

Arthur was about to jump in with ‘what a load of bullshit’ when he recalled Uther telling him that he would invest in Lance any day if Lance ever decided to take the plunge.  Uther had enjoyed many culinary masterpieces of Lance’s creation over the years.  He practically saw Lance as a second son.

“You really should ask Uther you know Lance, take a chance.”

Maybe Mystic Merlin had something going for him after all.

Fifteen minutes later, when Leon strutted out past the curtain, blinking owlishly as he adjusted his eyesight to daylight, Arthur was back to thinking Derren Brown was right and this fortune telling malarkey was all just a combination of NLP and lucky guesses. 

This opinion was reinforced when Leon announced, “No more pissing about, I’m asking Morgana out next week.”  Never in a month of Sundays would  _Morgana_  go out with  _Leon_.

Leaving them to it, Arthur took a deep breath and pushed back the curtain.

o-o

Arthur wasn’t sure what he expected, but the dark haired young man sitting at the velvet covered table in the middle of the dimly lit tiny room was not it. 

Surely  _some_  theatrics were required?  Wizardly cloak, pointy hat...some kind of semi hippy outfit at least.  The boy was wearing a tight blue t-shirt with the slogan ‘I speak fluent Geek’ on the front and from what Arthur could tell before his legs disappeared under the desk, a pair of grey jeans.

“Hello Arthur,” he said.  Arthur’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  He was going to  _kill_  whichever of Lance or Leon had given up his name.  Maybe making them go first wasn’t such a good plan.

“Have a seat.”  He (Merlin?) gestured the shabby chair opposite to him.  He had yet to look Arthur in the eye as he was searching through what appeared to be a drawer full of junk.  He sighed heavily and slammed the drawer.

Dark blue eyes met his, and Arthur gasped.  “Are you Merlin?” he tried to recover, ignoring his quickening pulse in favour of conversation.

The boy smirked.  “Who else were you expecting?”

“What I mean  _is_ ,” Arthur leant forward, resting an elbow in the table.  “Are you just some college kid drafted in for the holidays to pretend to see the future, you know, like one of a few working the booth on shifts?”

“Actually, this is a family business,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge.  “Merlin’s a family name...although I am the first to be given it as a first name for centuries.  So my name really  _is_  Merlin.”

“Oh.”  Arthur wasn’t quite sure where to go from there, so he sat back and folded his arms.  “Come on then, amaze me.”

“I can only tell you what I see Arthur, so if it’s not amazing – well it’s your own fault,” he held out a hand.  “Place your hand in mine please.”

For some reason Arthur was reluctant to touch Merlin.  “Er, don’t you have a crystal ball or something?”

“Yes, but it’s just a prop for those who require such frippery to make them feel they’re getting value for money.  I don’t work like that.”  He waggled his hand.  “Hand  _please_.”

Stifling a sigh, Arthur placed his hand in Merlin’s.  Merlin had long thin fingers and soft smooth skin.  His hands were cold which would explain the strange tingling Arthur felt at his touch.

Merlin’s blue eyes bored into Arthur’s for a moment before he closed them, long dark lashes fanning his cheeks adding to his strange beauty.  Arthur decided this was worth the money just to see those cheekbones before frowning.   _What  the fuck?_   Was he really admiring cheekbones?  What was wrong with him?

“Do you want it sugar-coated or – well –  _not_?”  Merlin’s eyes opened, pinning Arthur to the chair with his intensity.

Arthur felt a jolt of  _something_  at the look in Merlin’s eyes –  _fear_  maybe?  “Oh God, is it bad news?”  Visions of stepping off the pier into the path of a tram floated before him.

“It depends on your definition of  _bad_  news I suppose,” Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hand.  “No sugar then?”

Arthur ignored the bolt of electricity that shot up his arm.  “No, just tell me.”  This was all hocus-pocus bullshit anyway.

“You’re going to meet someone, I mean  _the one_  Arthur.  Your wedding next week; not happening.”

Arthur gaped.  “I meet someone between now and my wedding day – which is a week from today I hasten to add – and cancel my wedding?”

Merlin shrugged.  “Pretty much.”

Arthur snatched his hand back.  “Bullshit.”

Merlin snorted.  “I  _told_  you I wasn’t going to sugar coat it.”

“ _Right._   I suppose you tell people they’re going to die as well?”

“ _Arthur, you’re going to die_.” Merlin stared at Arthur, sincerity oozing from every pore, before snorting.  “Everyone dies eventually Arthur, even you.  I’m offended you would think I would just announce to someone their impending doom.”

Merlin held his hand out for Arthur’s again.

Arthur scowled when his hand seemed to move of its own accord and join with Merlin’s.  Merlin closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.  Arthur found himself wondering if Merlin would look that good when he was sleeping.

“You’ve got a happy future ahead of you,” Merlin spoke without opening his eyes, allowing Arthur the opportunity to study him closer.  He really was a striking young man.  “There will be some struggles along the way – I see difficulties with your father wanting you to take a different path to the one you are on, but you always follow your heart and you’ll find your place.”

“That’s a bit wishy washy,” complained Arthur.  “That could apply to half the population!”

Merlin opened one eye, giving Arthur a Cyclops glare, and closed it again with a sigh.  “I knew you’d be a handful,” he huffed. 

“Right, so I’m a handful with a bright future – but not married to Vivien whilst I’m living this wonderful future is that right?”

“Vivien, blond and fair,” said Merlin as if suddenly channelling Shakespeare.  “There are flesh eating zombies more suited to you than that girl.”

Arthur snatched his hand away again.  “Where do you get off insulting my future wife?” he snarled, ignoring the fact this his hand was still tingling.

Merlin shrugged and opened his eyes.  “She’s not your  _future wife_ , she’s your soon to be  _ex_.”

“You know what?” said Arthur, getting to his feet and moving to stand behind the chair.  “I don’t want to hear any more of your crap.  I’ve got roller coasters to be – er – coasting, and more beer to be drinking, as this is my last weekend as a single man and I intend to enjoy it.  I thought this would be fun, but -”

“No – don’t go Arthur.  I apologise.  Sit down.  I’ve got all day, no one else will come for a reading today.”

Arthur hesitated, but then Merlin turned on the puppy dog eyes and Arthur couldn’t get his legs to move in the direction he wanted them to go in, instead he found himself back in the chair. 

“How do you know no one else will come in today?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and poked himself in the chest, “Mystic Merlin.”

“Yeah, like I believe that.”  Yet, he was still here.

“Alright then, ask me something,” Merlin challenged.  “Something I would have no chance of ever being able to guess.  I dare you.”

Arthur was sure he’d seen Derren Brown do something like this, disproving it as a load of wank, but there was just something about Merlin that made him want to stay and humour him.  That, and Arthur Pendragon never backed down from a challenge.

“OK then,” he accepted.  “When I was seven I had and operation.  What was it and what was the name of the kid in the bed opposite?”  That should be random enough.

Merlin thought for a moment, biting his lip and Arthur’s cock stirred.  Again... _what – the - fuck?_   Merlin’s lips were so rosy and soft looking...

 

“Appendix, Gawain West.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped.  How could Merlin read that off him?  He hadn’t even been thinking about the answer, Merlin’s lips were far more interesting.  “Lucky guess,” he sniffed, crossing his legs to hide the evidence.  “Why did I get detention when I was eleven?”  His one and only time.

Another pause for thought, “You punched someone named Valiant and broke his nose because he tried to look up your friend Gwen’s skirt.”

Damn, but this kid was good...and getting more and more attractive by the minute.  “Wait – _can you read a person’s thoughts?_ ” 

~~~

“Why, are you worried?”  Merlin leant back and folded his arms.  “What are you hiding behind those big blue eyes Arthur?”

“No, I just didn’t want you to hear me think what an idiot you are – I’d rather tell you to your face.”   _I’d rather kiss your face_.  Shit.  Arthur tried to push that thought back.  He didn’t know what to think right now.  Merlin could read his mind but not his thoughts?  What was the difference?

“So,  _how_  do you know all that stuff?  I don’t buy all this psychic crap.  You must be good at reading people.”  He watched Merlin carefully.  “Did I look to the left and waggle a finger or something when you were trying to read the answer off me?”

“Arthur,” Merlin stretched his arms above his head as he was talking, revealing a flat white stomach above his low slung jeans.  Arthur covered his groan with a cough and forced himself to look away.  “If you think this is ‘psychic crap’, why are you here?”

Arthur shrugged, “Don’t know really.  I got a crazy urge to have my fortune told yesterday, but the booth was closed.”  He fumbled around in his jacket pocket and produced a card.  “Then last night in the pub I found this card tucked down the back of the chair...  I must say – I thought this would be more  _fun_.”  He said the words and immediately felt mean, because – honestly – he was enjoying this.   _This_  being talking to Merlin.

“If I told you fate led you here what would you say?”

“Probably that you’re one sandwich short of a picnic.   _Are you saying that?_ ”

“Oh no Arthur, these are things you have to work out for yourself.”  He held out his hand again.  “We’ve still got a lot to go over.”

“Isn’t my time up now?  Lance and Leon will be -”

“Check your phone, they’ve gone to the pub to wait for you.”

Incredulously Arthur dug his phone out, and lo and behold, and text from Lance saying they’d meet him later.  He glared at Merlin again.  “How -”

“Must we cover this again?  Me psychic.”  He pulled open the desk drawer, tracing his lips with a pink tongue as he rummaged. 

Arthur closed his eyes and wondered if this wasn’t fate after all.  Maybe he was meant to come here, meet Merlin and have one last fling before he walked down the aisle and tied himself to Viv forever.  He’d been with guys before, but after next Saturday he never could be again.  He’d be restricted to soft curves and smooth hairless body parts.  He felt an immediate urge for Merlin to stretch again so he could see that taut flat belly and the hair that tapered downwards...   _Oh sweet heaven_.  He was harder than a teenager with his first erection.

“Er – you evaded my question about reading peoples thoughts.”

Merlin, finding what he was searching for in the drawer, pulled out a battered envelope and laid it on the table in front of him.

“Not that you’ll be willing to believe me but no I can’t read thoughts, that would be a nightmare – imagine?”  He shuddered.  “What I can do it is pick stuff out of a person’s head.  Like you asked me about your operation and the other patient – you then pulled the memory forward and I that’s what I got.  It’s different from  _thought_  reading what someone is thinking in the moment...it’s difficult to explain.”

Arthur could see the sincerity on his face then, and wanted so much to believe him, but stuff like that was impossible wasn’t it?  It didn’t fit into any  _known_  scientific knowledge.

“And the future, how do you know that?  Did you know I was coming today?” Arthur figured he might as well humour the kid...Merlin...if he was going to do this, and sleep with him.  God, even just thinking it seemed to make him harder.  Thank goodness there was a desk between them, hiding his shame.

“I’ve been expecting you for a long time Arthur.  A  _long long_  time.”

~~~

Arthur frowned.  “You do realise how creepy that sounds, right?”

Merlin shrugged, “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“So, do you – um – ‘expect’ all of your clients?”

“Hell no – how tedious would that be?  I don’t need my head filled with other people’s crap when I’m not here,” he leant forward.  “So, Arthur...are you going to ask me or what?”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably.  “Er – ask you what?”  Surely Merlin couldn’t  _know_?  “I thought you said you couldn’t read thoughts?”  Dammit, that would imply he was having thoughts and...oh  _fuck_.

“I can’t, but I can see the future, and your immediate future involves this,” and he pushed himself forward so he was practically on top of Arthur, the narrow desk still in between them, grabbed hold of the lapel of Arthur’s jacket, pulling him forward and slamming their lips together.

Merlin’s tongue traced the seal of Arthur’s lips, and as Arthur tried to speak to mutter an insincere protest – because even though he wanted this, and his cock was most fervently agreeing with him on that, he  _was_  supposed to be getting married in a week and surely that had to be worth at least a half hearted effort at saying ‘no’, right? – Merlin darted his tongue inside and Arthur was opening his mouth to meet him.  It was a little messy and there were too many teeth, but Arthur’s head was reeling as his subconscious spoke up and said  _finally_ , and Arthur wanted to ask himself ‘finally  _what_?’ but Merlin was pulling back, and Arthur’s lips were tingling at the absence, and he wanted to pull Merlin back and demand that he carry on kissing him.

Merlin unfolded himself from his half lying position across the desk and sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

Arthur’s breathing felt ragged, and all he could think about navigating his way past that bloody desk and lowering himself into Merlin’s lap, or maybe Merlin in his lap or...  His aroused gaze clashed with Merlin.

“Do you want to know what happens next?” he asked.  Arthur couldn’t formulate words.  He nodded, unable to break eye contact.  Merlin’s eyes were  _amazing_.

“Sugar?”

Arthur shook his head again, hoping the next words out of Merlin’s mouth would be what he wanted to hear. 

“Good, the sweetened version sounds sooo boring.  ‘We make love’ doesn’t sound half as much fun as me telling you that you’re gonna fuck my brains out does it?”

“Oh God,” croaked Arthur, wondering if his cock actually might break the zip on his jeans of its own accord.  “You’re serious?”

Merlin waggled his eyebrows, “I can only tell you what I see.”  He was licking his lips again.  “Come here.”

Arthur didn’t need asking twice.

~~~

Merlin was sitting in what seemed to be a ratty worn old armchair; plenty of room for Arthur’s knees as he straddled Merlin and bent his head down to resume the kiss Merlin had cruelly broken earlier.  Long arms moved behind him and cupped his arse as Merlin thrust his arousal into Arthur’s, both of them straining to get closer.

Arthur’s questing fingers found the hem of Merlin’s t-shirt, Merlin raising his arms to assist before returning them to Arthur’s arse.  Arthur leant back to appreciate the sight before him.  Merlin was pale and slender, his nipples a dusky pink that stood out invitingly.  Arthur took the invitation, swirling his tongue over one then the other, loving Merlin’s gasps of pleasure and the way his hands squeezed his arse tighter.  He replaced his tongue with his thumbs, rubbing them firmly over the tiny nubs, the need to kiss Merlin again, feel that tongue in his mouth, becoming his primary goal in that moment.

Merlin’s hands moved the front of Arthur’s jeans, confidently making short work of the buckle and button, moving the zip down slowly and sliding a hand inside.  “Wnyunme,” said Merlin, tearing his lips away from Arthur and looking up at him through hooded lids. 

“Huh?” grunted Arthur as he found Merlin’s belt and began to work on removing the barrier.

“Want.  You.  In.  Me,” enunciated Merlin, springing Arthur’s cock free.  Merlin broke eye contact to greedily eye the length of it as it bobbed against Arthur’s t-shirt covered stomach as he pouted, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Arthur’s jacket and t-shirt hit the floor seconds later.  He got to his feet as hastily pulled off his jeans and boots, yanking Merlin up by his arm and helping him divest himself of his tighter jeans.

Naked, they stood chest to chest, cock to cock.  Arthur felt something click into place as Merlin’s hands confidently explored his chest with his long fingers, his eyes promising more as he leant in and ran his tongue along the length of Arthur’s collarbone, pressing himself closer.

In that moment Arthur knew he had never wanted anyone more, and as he felt Merlin’s fingers close around his cock and give it a firm yank, he thought that if he wasn’t inside Merlin soon he might pass out of from just  _wanting_.

He closed his own hand around Merlin’s erection, exploring the long smooth length of it, smearing the leaking head with his thumb.  His other hand explored Merlin’s bottom, seeking out the tiny hole nestled there.

Then it was all hands and teeth, cocks and lips, heat and sweat; Merlin pushed Arthur back into the chair, turning round and presenting his arse to Arthur, and from nowhere a tube of lube and a condom, wiggling his derriere encouragingly.  “Make it quick,” he begged, and Arthur, salivating at the picture before him and never one to rest on his laurels, immediately had his fingers in the lube and was parting Merlin’s cheeks with an urgent finger obligingly.  He was struggling to breathe, that something -  _someone_  - could be this beautiful ripped all the air from his lungs. 

His cock stood against his belly, leaking and desperate for contact with Merlin.  He brushed the head along the seam of Merlin’s arse with his spare hand as he added a second finger and stretched Merlin. 

Merlin was gasping and writhing in front of him, urging him to hurry, but Arthur was nervous of hurting him if he was too quick, but still he added the third finger and Merlin pushed back with a groan.

“Make it true Arthur,” he hissed.  “Fuck my brains out.”

Arthur removed his fingers from Merlin’s hole, turning him around to face him, and Merlin immediately straddled him, snatching up the condom and ripping it open with his teeth, rolling it carefully over Arthur’s erection, his lower lip caught between his teeth as the concentrated on the task.

“Oh fuck,” Arthur said, watching at Merlin raised himself and aligned his hole over the tip of Arthur’s cock, and Arthur gripped the root to keep it in place as Merlin lowered himself slowly onto him.

Merlin’s knees gripped Arthur’s hips tightly, his hands falling behind him to rest on Arthur’s thighs for leverage as he began to move.  Arthur tried to thrust upwards but Merlin had him pinned too strongly.

Arthur may be the one getting ridden here, but there was no question who was controlling the coupling.  Arthur placed his hands over Merlin’s jutting hipbones and looked up at Merlin, their eyes locked together as Merlin began to move faster, fucking himself onto Arthur, his pink mouth eliciting tiny groans and hisses of  _yes_ , and Merlin’s cock tap tap tapping against Arthur’s belly button, begging for his touch.

Arthur wrapped his hand around his prize and began to stroke, aching to taste the precome that was oozing from the head, gathering some on his knuckles and licking his hand clean, eyes still locked with Merlin’s until Merlin bent forward and joined their mouths together, his arse still moving faster and faster, up and down.  Arthur could feel his orgasm building with an intensity he had never felt before, certainly not with his future wife, not with  _anyone_.

He tried to hold back, he tried to last longer, he wanted Merlin to come first, but this was too much – Merlin riding him hard, their tongues duelling ferociously, Merlin’s cock in his hand, the taste of Merlin’s come on his lips, Merlin practically holding him down with his thighs...  His scream was lost in Merlin’s kiss as he exploded inside him; his head fell back against the headrest as he closed his eyes, seeing stars as the sensations took hold of him.

Arthur’s eyes flew open and met with Merlin’s as he felt him tighten around his cock, and Merlin’s release coated his chest, some of it even finding Arthur’s chin. 

Merlin pushed forward, swiping his tongue over Arthur’s lips, swirling over his chin and cleaning the come of him before pressing his tongue inside, the two of them enjoying a searing kiss as they came down from their climaxes.

Merlin gave up the kiss and nuzzled his face into Arthur’s neck.  He smelt of sex, sweat and _home_.

As the world crashed back to life around him Arthur felt an awful sense of dread overtake him.  He couldn’t marry Viv.  Of course he couldn’t.  He’d let himself get railroaded, he didn’t love her and he certainly did not want to wake up next to her every day until the  day he died.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life like this, with  _Merlin_ , preferably inside of him, at the very least in close proximity to him.

“Merlin?”

“Arthur,” Merlin’s breath ghosted over Arthur’s neck and he shuddered pleasurably. 

“What happens next?”


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin sat back and gingerly lifted himself off Arthur’s cock, shifting back a little so he could look straight into Arthur’s eyes.

“Only a prat like you would ask me that after  _that_?” he rolled his eyes.  “I’ve already _told_  you your future, can’t you figure it out?”  He shuffled backwards, somehow landing on his feet and beginning to get dressed.

“Hang on a minute,” Arthur huffs, faux hurt because Merlin’s tone is teasing, getting to his feet and pulling on his jeans.  “You can’t talk to  _me_  like that -” and he’s about to add, jokingly, ‘to a paying client’ when his phone rings, and on autopilot he drags it out of his pocket and answers, not looking at the caller ID.  “Arthur Pendragon.”

It’s Olaf, Viv’s Dad, and Arthur’s heart sinks because Olaf barely tolerates him at the best of times, so for him to be actually  _calling_... 

Olaf’s barely coherent.  All Arthur can gather is that something has happened to Viv on her hen in Dublin, she’s in hospital, in intensive care and Arthur needs to get there  _immediately_.  Arthur pushes out a promise that he will be on the first flight out of Manchester, and hangs up.

Merlin is watching him through sympathetic knowing eyes.

“You  _knew_  something was going to happen to Viv?  You  _knew_  and you still -” Arthur shook his head, backing away from Merlin.

“Arthur, no I  _didn’t_  know something would...that’s not how it works.  I can’t see the third -” he reaches out to Arthur and Arthur backs away, because all he can hear is fucking  _lies_  tumbling from the same lips he’s just been kissing.  Either Merlin is a real psychic, in which case he _knew_ , or he’s a fraud and has been luring Arthur into his web of seduction, making him cheat on Viv, and now Viv could  _die_  and Arthur’s going to be flying over to her bedside with Merlin’s come drying on his stomach, a sick reminder of what an unfaithful  _wanker_  he is.

Arthur finds his t-shirt on the floor and yanks it on, shoving his feet into his boots without bothering to find socks, because he has to go to Viv, he has to see her, because he was going to marry her, and  _this_ , whatever this is, is a huge mistake.  What was he thinking, shagging the fucking fortune teller on his stag weekend?  More to the point, what was he doing seeing his future unfolding in front of him with said fortune teller at his side? 

“Bye Merlin,” Arthur finally spat out as Merlin stopped talking, realising Arthur clearly wasn’t listening.  He located his jacket, pulled out his wallet and threw thirty quid on the table. 

“Arthur – wait!”  Merlin caught hold of his arm as he went to leave, and Arthur paused for a moment but didn’t turn around, a small part of him knowing that if he did that he might not be able to leave, that Merlin might weave another spell around him.  He pulled his arm out of Merlin’s grasp and stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine and ran, only stopping when the surface beneath his feet ceased to be pier and became pavement.

~~~

Arthur made it to the hospital within a few hours, and the next few days are spent at Viv’s bedside as she languished in a coma.  He’s eaten up with guilt over the fact that as Viv, his _fiancé_  was being resuscitated in the ER, Arthur had his dick up the fortune teller’s arse. 

Olaf’s even being nice to him, obviously thinking that Arthur’s bedside devotion us due to worry – and it is, of course he’s worried about her – but he’s realised he doesn’t love her now, and his primary motivation is one of duty.  He’s still her fiancé, and even when the wedding day comes and goes and he vaguely thinks ‘Merlin was right’ before shoving him guiltily out of his head, he knows that if and when she does come round, once he knows she’s going to be OK, he’ll be calling things off.

~~~

Viv woke up on the Monday after the aborted wedding with a banging headache and some disorientation, but otherwise fine.  The doctors kept her in for another week before allowing her to go home.

Arthur and Olaf take her back to England, and when Olaf suggests she stays with him for a couple of weeks Arthur encourages her, saying it would do her good to be pampered for a while after what she’s been through, and that he has to return to work anyway and wouldn’t be able to give her the attention she deserves.

He’s glad when she doesn’t point out he would have been off work for another fortnight on their honeymoon had it gone ahead.  He’s less pleased when she announces that her recovery time will be a great opportunity to rearrange the wedding, but his guilt keeps his mouth shut.  He’ll give her a week to get her strength back and then he’ll tell her it’s off.

Instead of going back to work, Arthur spends the time wallowing at home in the flat, sleeping fretfully, images of Merlin haunting him when he  _does_  finally sleep. 

On the second night he found himself on Google Earth trying to locate ‘Mystic Merlin’ on Blackpool pier and getting really annoyed when the very spot it should be in was all blurry, as though someone had tried to rub it out in image editor.  Fucking typical.

On the third night, as he lay awake trying to shake off the guilt...guilt that has nothing whatsoever to do with Viv and more to do with the way he walked out on Merlin without listening to his explanation, and that he fucking  _threw_  money at him like he was a cheap hooker, he decides he can’t handle it anymore, and before he really knows what he’s doing he’s dressed, in the car and half way up the M40 to Blackpool.

~~~

Arthur drove swiftly, the kind of driving that sometimes scared him when he would see a sign for somewhere and realise he’d moved 40 miles and not remembered any of it.  His head was elsewhere; thinking of blue eyes, long pale limbs and destiny.  He hoped he was doing the right thing here, as in flashes normality he felt as though he’d been losing his mind with the fatalistic thoughts, but the rest of the time, well,  _he liked them_.

By the time he hit the Oxford area, Arthur was really flagging, the lack of sleep was getting to him.  Without even thinking about it he pulled into Oxford Services for a coffee and a pastry hoping some caffeine and food would fuel him the rest of the way to Blackpool.

He went to the loo, queued for a coffee and a muffin then sat down in the window to partake in some people watching before he headed off again.

Merlin was stood outside the window, hands in pockets, huge grin, perfectly framed by the jets of water in the fountain between the window and the path outside.  When Arthur caught his eye, he waved and his grin widened.

It seemed that Merlin had forgiven Arthur for throwing money at him and storming out the last time they had met.

Arthur’s brief moment of surprise faded; of course Merlin was outside.  Merlin was bloody magic, or at the very least there could be no doubt that he could see the future.

Picking up his coffee and taking a quick bite of the muffin, Arthur made his way past the early morning commuters stopping for breakfast and made his away outside.

“Hello Merlin,” he said, trying to be calm as his heart pounded a tattoo in his chest.

 _”Finally,”_ he drawled.  “I thought you’d never notice me outside.”

“What -  _how_  did you know I’d be here?” stammered Arthur, still trying to still his pulse.  His insides were doing somersaults at Merlin’s presence.

Merlin’s eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets, “Seriously Arthur?  You’re asking  _me_  how I knew you were here?”

Arthur immediately felt stupid.  “Right – right, sorry.  Forget the how, I’ll go for why?”

“I thought I’d save you the petrol and the hassle of driving up to Blackpool to find my grumpy old Granddad in his pointy hat conforming to stereotypes.”

“That’s not really what I mean Merlin, I mean I know why I’m looking for you, but why are you...for me?”  What that was supposed to say was ‘I’m sorry and I want to get to know you.’  Arthur decided he was shit at this romance thing.  He blamed his father and all that pressure towards Viv.

Merlin took a step forward, removed Arthur’s coffee and muffin from his grip and threw them in a nearby bin.  “This is why,” and he leaned in and pressed his soft lips against Arthur’s, his hands going to Arthur’s hips as Arthur groaned and fell into the kiss.

When they broke apart there was a row of open mouthed people in the window with their eyes glued to them.  Merlin winked and bowed, and a few blushed and looked away, a couple carried on staring and one of them, a woman of advanced years, waved back.

“Look,” Merlin said, taking Arthur’s hand.  “Not here.  Let’s go back to mine.”

Arthur let Merlin lead him to his own car – no point wondering how Merlin knew which one it was – glad to get away from the prying eyes; apart from any other reason, the motorways services had to be the least romantic place on the planet.

~~~

Merlin lived in converted church in the middle of nowhere somewhere outside Oxford.  Arthur had been expecting some kind of shared terraced house in Oxford, not a pad like this one that even Uther would have deigned to live in.

“Wow, Merlin, this is amazing.” he nearly choked in surprise.  “Er – what happened to Blackpool?”

“Thanks,” Merlin said graciously, leading Arthur through the entrance hall.  “It was a ramshackle shell when I bought it, but it wasn’t so hard to do up when you’re in my line of business.” 

Arthur tore his eyes away from admiring the conversion, “What business is that?  Don’t tell me fortune telling Merlin because I can’t believe you could afford a place like this reading palms on the pier.”

“Property development; I only help out on the pier if I’m visiting, and of course I had to be there that day to meet you.”  They arrived in the sitting room, a large light room with high beams and arched windows, and Merlin gestured that Arthur should sit down.  “Would you like a drink?”

Arthur shook his head, mentally reassessing Merlin's age from his prevoius assumption of around 20, and sat on the long cream sofa, “Not right now, thanks.”  He took a deep breath and pinned Merlin with what he hoped was remorse.  “Would you like an apology?”

“Not right now, thanks,” Merlin parroted, sitting down next to Arthur and taking his hand.  “There’s no need, I already knew you would come and find me, and I know it was just the shock talking.  Believe me when I say I didn’t know about your fiancé, I could only see that you wouldn’t marry her because -”

“...because I’d met you right?”

Merlin looked surprised at Arthur’s words, but nodded.

“So, I’m destined to be with an idiot who tells fortunes, and has sex on piers with strangers?”  The same could obviously apply to him, Merlin being the stereotype every romantic hopeful wishes to be told they will meet – the tall, dark and handsome stranger.

“Prat,” laughed Merlin.  “You weren’t a stranger to me.  I’ve known about you since I was eleven.”

Arthur sobered, “You have?  How – why then?”

“Well, that was kind of when I managed to get a hold of what I could do, what I could see.  I supposed I’d been seeing you for years before that but I didn’t understand it,” Merlin’s voice took on a serious tone.  “And before you ask, I didn’t see details, you know, I wasn’t like four years old and seeing us having sex in that chair or anything!”

“That’s good to know,” Arthur shifted as his cock twitched at the memory.  “Er, how can you see me but not what happened to Viv?”

“I need the person there to see anything in them.  So I could only see that you didn’t marry her not why.  The reason I’ve been waiting for you, that I knew about  _you_  when you weren’t there is because  _I_  was there, I could see my future, and you were always in it, you know?”  Merlin looked at Arthur from under his lashes.  “You’re being incredibly un-prat like about this.  I’m suspicious.  Don’t you want to complain that this destiny thing has taken away your free will or something?  I was sure you would.”

“I’m OK with it.  I’ve had a lot of time to think about this – about you – the last couple of weeks.  If destiny means I can keep you then -” he shrugged.  “I might buy destiny a beer.”

Merlin beamed.

“Oh – and I know you haven’t broken it off with Viv yet,” Merlin offered.  “But take it from me, she’s only going to call you a wanker and slap you once.”  Without giving Arthur time to dwell on impending injury at the hands of Viv, Merlin launched himself at Arthur, raining kisses over his jaw, sliding his hands under his t-shirt. 

Arthur pulled back, “Hey – don’t going getting all complacent on the prat thing though – destiny is all very well, but we’ve got a lot of getting to know one another to do, and by the sounds of it we’re stuck together regardless, so you’ll have to learn to love the prat won’t you?”

“Already do,” Merlin breathed, pushing back forward for a kiss.  Arthur slid his hands round to cup Merlin’s arse and felt something rustle and fall to the floor. 

Curious, Arthur pulled back and wiggled his arm to the floor and picked up a familiar looking envelope; it was the same one Merlin had rummaged out of a drawer back on the pier.  “What’s this?” he waved it in front of Merlin.

“My piece de resistance, in case you were more difficult to persuade than you have been...I mean, I  _knew_  you would be convinced, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d take.”  He picked up the envelope and slid a finger inside to tear it open.  “Granddad’s kept this since I was eleven; he said one day it would all make sense.”

He pulled out a folded piece of white paper, leant away from Arthur so he could look at it first, and grimaced.

“You’ll have to excuse the artwork, I never could draw,” he said sheepishly, and held the paper out for Arthur’s perusal. 

Arthur took it, and gasped.  It was a badly drawn pencil crayon picture of two men, one blond, and one raven haired.  Under the blond it said ‘Arthur’ and under the other – ‘Merlin’.  Scrawled at the bottom in an eleven year olds’ handwriting it said ‘14th August 2010, Blackpool Pier’.

“Fuck me,” said Arthur.  “I knew there was a reason I was so keen to go to Blackpool for my stag do.  I bloody hate the place.”

“Is that an invite?” Merlin raised an eyebrow and trailed a finger down Arthur’s chest.

“It could be,” Arthur still Merlin’s hand, cupping his chin and giving him the sex eyes.  “Oh, OK, it is most  _definitely_  an invite.” 

Arthur realised they would probably get to know each other’s bodies a lot quicker than they did their minds, but as Merlin’s hand found its way beneath his waistband, he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. 


End file.
